Little Britain

We never quite understood why the British had to hold that referendum, way back in 2016. It was like a kick in the teeth after the EU had done so much and bent over so far backwards to accommodate the pretensions of the British government. Pretensions that Britain was somehow different from the rest of us; better, even. Pretensions that Britain deserved a loftier place in the group, that it should have a special status in the union. The referendum was a tense time but when they voted the right way things settled back down and we could get on with the business of bringing forward the plans that had been held in abeyance even as we held our breath.

As a united Europe we are uniquely privileged and enjoy advantages that many countries do not. We have full employment once again; everybody who is able has a job. Of course since the rationing of fossil fuels for non-party officials was put in place there are many more physical jobs. Human and animal muscle power is once again a major resource so labour commands a decent price and we are all now paid an equal, living wage which is more than enough for our needs. We know this is so because Brussels economists have calculated it and we are told it daily by the public broadcasts when they also inform us of our productivity rates. It would be nice to be able to have our own televisions like they used to, but it is vital that we save precious resources and preserve the planet and besides, attending the broadcasts gives us a greater sense of community.

That camaraderie also gets us through our working days in the fields. We mostly eat vegetables now, as growing crops absorbs carbon dioxide and is much less damaging than rearing livestock. Of course, the Eurocrats have to host other nation states from outside Europe all the time, so they need to serve meat at the regular state banquets. This is an example of how the party officials make a greater sacrifice for the good of the union – we are all taught at school that eating meat causes cancer, so this shows how brave our leaders are. We are kept safer and healthier by eating soya instead.

Work for all!

Food is a much bigger focus now than it was before. Because we spend so much time growing it and spend so much of our household incomes buying it. So it is also to our benefit that the commission decided to introduce the Communities Act some thirty years ago. To accommodate the needs of our new citizens – Africa, like Turkey, although not a full, fee-paying member of the EU has full freedom of movement – we were all rehoused in brand new, super apartments with enough bedrooms for our welcome guests. We now have huge families as a result of obeying the directive to ‘match a migrant’; for every original family member we now have a vibrant and diverse addition. And rape isn’t the problem that some warned about; it has simply been decriminalised on cultural accommodation grounds.

So, after all the divisions and emotive language and all the old enmities that the British referendum brought up it was a relief to us all that they voted to discontinue their membership and leave us in peace in Europe. Nobody over here much bothers with them any more and not much news ever reaches us from Little Britain. For all we know they are still eating meat, like savages, and driving all over their poxy little island in cars, destroying the planet. And living in pathetic little individual houses... and not paying for the privilege.

Going for Gove

It started off reasonably enough: “I think people in this country have had enough of experts, enough of organisations with acronyms saying they know what is best…” said Michael Gove last night. What he meant, of course, is expert advice is at best an educated guess and many expert predictions (or non-predictions) have proved false. The expert left wing economist David Blanchflower forecast that 500,000 jobs would be lost if the Tories ever got into power. And ‘experts’ have for many decades been warning of six days to save the NHS.

Many experts are funded by groups in whose interests they broadcast their advice or their visions of the future, yet rarely are they brought to account for their errors or for their deliberately misleading partisan announcements because their purpose has already been achieved; if you can’t see the future you can at least attempt to shape it. Announce a rise in the numbers with wheat allergies and you will see a rise in the numbers imagining they have wheat allergies. Keep telling everybody they will be worse off and they will begin to feel worse off. Aside from obvious professional competence in medicine, mechanics, science and the like, expertise is a slippery thing. Alchemists were experts of a kind.

But Gove’s perfectly reasonable articulation of what an enormous number of people feel but never get the chance to say to an audience was deftly interrupted so that Faisal Islam could then repeatedly claim that he said “We’ve had enough of experts.” And there was the headline. People who didn’t watch the Sky News ‘town hall’ event – and quite a few columnists who did – now believe that Michael Gove, the Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State for justice, who relies all the time on being briefed by experts, has summarily dismissed their views.

Oh, how do they lie to you? Let me count the ways... The distortion of what interviewees are trying to say has become commonplace in our relentless pursuit of making a drama out of a crisis, itself founded on perfectly ordinary events. A misplaced pronoun, an ill-advised word and the real message is lost, twisted into something far from that intended. Not long ago Benedict Cumberbatch was pilloried for accidentally calling people ‘coloured’ instead of whatever approved term was then in favour – white people aren’t fully briefed in this area. And when Diane James was trying to make a fair point about a preference for employing English-speaking foreign workers in the health service she was howled down by a mob just looking for an opportunity to denounce her as a racist.

The electorate complain that there are insufficient facts availabe to make a decision over the issue of British sovereignty versus European Union supremacy. They are bombarded with soundbites which either speak to their own prejudices or rattle their previous understanding. How much do we ‘send’ to Brussels each week? How many jobs ‘depend’ on membership of the EU? Who will win and who will lose if we leave or if we stay? None of these questions are truly accurately quantifiable and even if such accurate figures were available they would be dressed up and gift-wrapped and PR’d and offered for sale under a campaign which fundamentally ignored the unalloyed truth.

So, it all comes down to feel. Who do you like the look of? Who sounds like he’s your friend and not like a sharp-suited salesman? Who do you trust? Michael Gove’s argument was really about all of this; the lack of trust in the political and big business elites; the sense of cards being stacked against the ordinary worker (‘twas ever thus); the weight of oppressive power represented by centralised, bullying, unelected government. By the way Faisal Islam kept on interrupting and misquoting him, he was rather in danger of appearing to be on the side of the bullies himself.

No gimmicks - over to you...

Whatever the truth of the matter the central question for this referendum has little to do with facts and experts and televised debates and battle buses and twenty-four hour media coverage. In or out, there will be consequences for a relatively small number of people; for the majority little will change. The question is, do you believe in an independent Britain, governed democratically, where the government can be held to account by the people? Or would you prefer to leave your fate and that of your children in the hands of bureaucrats whose roles you can’t describe and whose names you’ve never known? 

You're Fired!

David Cameron’s appearance before an audience of inquisitors left the nation – those of us who could be bothered to watch, at least – unimpressed. After a light mauling from Faisal Islam in which the Prime Minister looked surprised to be treated without the usual deference he spent much of the time during audience questions on the ropes. The smooth, well-rehearsed arguments against Brexit Armageddon sounded so much less effective from the small stage than when trumpeted from a banner headline or belted out at a rally. This section of the British public was not signing any open letter in support at any time soon.

The relentless advance of Project Fear may be taking its toll, with voters becoming weary of hearing so many fantasy sums describing their folly and demise should they dare oppose their masters. There may be a stirring in the belly of the beast and a lust for more blood now it seems the first has been drawn. While we may not yet see rows of bloody heads on pikes on Westminster railings, there is undoubtedly an appetite at large for the political elites to be brought to account for their actions.

Were Britain the banana republic many believe we are becoming as the EU progressively clamps down on our freedoms of speech and expression and behaviour and thought, the backlash for a failed political gambit might be a traitor’s trial and swift execution thereafter. So let us imagine such a scene: David Cameron, Jeremy Corbyn and Theresa May are all to be punished for working for the enemies of the crown. The death penalty has been reinstated and the judge asks them to name the means of their despatch. Before the other two have the chance to reply, Jeremy blurts out “Firing squad!” Aghast, May and Cameron begin to protest but it is too late. The black cap is donned and the sentence delivered. The waiting crowds cheer.

“You bastard, Jeremy” says Cameron but Corbyn explains: “Don’t worry comrades, as an old revolutionary I know about these things. There is a code of honour which will work in our favour. Not all the guns are loaded, so that even the marksmen don’t know who fired the killing shot. In order that they don’t see the bullet from their gun entering the target they take aim, but close their eyes when pulling the trigger.” Theresa May curls her lip and snarls “Yes, but we’re still dead anyway.” Jeremy smiles “Ah but, if they all miss, it is considered cruel to put you through the ordeal again. If they miss, you go free. All you have to do is distract them at the point of firing and you’re in with a chance.”

They agree to follow Jeremy’s lead and he volunteers to be the first in line. Smiling at the squad of unwitting executioners he refuses the blindfold, calmly takes up his position and faces the muzzles. “Ready!” cries the squad commander. The rifles are brought to shoulder. “Aim!” Six muzzles all point towards the black patch pinned to Jeremy’s breast and fingers rest on triggers. Then, just as the commander is about to give the order Jeremy shouts out, “Oh look, squirrel!” The guns rattle their brief tattoo and when the smoke clears Jeremy is standing there unscathed but for a small graze on his shoulder. He is led from the compound, a free man.

Theresa is up next. She trembles a little as the patch is pinned in place and her legs almost give way. She thinks frantically as a new squad take up their positions and load their magazines. The orders come: “Ready!” Her mind races as she thinks... “Aim!” the guns turn her way, then... “Incoming! Incoming!” She yells and points to the sky. The guns spit bullets unevenly and miraculously, Theresa escapes with little more than a headache. It is David Cameron’s turn.

Social media death sentence...

The third squad is marched in and preparations begin. The new squad commander briefs them and leads them in a short brief prayer that their aim be true and their consciences clean. They line up and load and Cameron is marched to the spot. Silence descends as the spectators fall into a hush and watch. “Ready!” comes the first order. The crowd tenses for the finale. “Aim!” barks the commander, they pause and then... Just as the fingers tense on the triggers, David Cameron points and shouts “Fire! Fire!” 

Such people!

So the TUC has done its own ‘independent research’ and concludes we will all be £38 per week worse off after a Brexit? Thirty-eight? Why not £40, or hey, go for hyper-faux-accuracy and call it £38.23? Will we also forfeit the ability to travel without a visa which will cost £15.36 per week for every country in the EU we visit? Or perhaps our life expectancy will decline by one year, three months and eleven days? Or will we experience a 1.3264% increase in the risk of dying from cancer? For heaven’s sake, we can’t even say with any certainty what our national debt is right now, let alone how anybody's pay packet will be affected in a year’s time; who would believe such naked chicanery as Remain’s barrage of precise forecasts of things that are simply unquantifiable?

This was the news that the BBC told me over and over again on my drive to work yesterday. On the drive home there was a section in The Media Show about the success of Geordie Shore. Not being an aficionado of truly appalling excuses for mindlessly staring at the idiot box I was unaware that this piece of televisual ordure, which would seem to be so regionally-specific in interest, is huge. The producer in the interview claimed that with its target demographic (ages 16-34) it is more popular than Game of Thrones. Just to be clear, these people would rather watch a shambolic, fly-on-the-wall ‘reality’ show about self-centred people they can barely understand, than a hugely expensive, lavishly filmed and expensively cast dramatic sensation.

In beginning there was the herd... and then we created society. While people were still foraging in the dirt and running about naked we discovered we could better survive by joining forces. For millennia the family unit and its extended tribes were the source of all our sensations, both basic and extra-curricular. At some point we found time to get bored and eventually we evolved and created entertainment. We then spent hundreds of years getting good at it. Very good. The need to be amused spawned entire industries and advances in technology; theatre, cinematography, special effects... the Oscars and all that getting there entails.

But the process of natural selection often throws up dead ends. While the successful branch of the evolutionary tree strengthens as survival-equiped mutations procreate with each other, the stunted limbs wither and die as their ill-equipped offspring fail to spread their genes wider than their own weak circle of interbreeding. Eventually, speciation ensures the lesser specimens can no longer breed with the successful dynasties; they either evolve into another form or die out. Maybe we are witnessing the dawn of a new sub-species of homo sapiens right now. With their spines permanently curved from hours spent in comfy sofas, welcome to homo reclinus.

These knuckle-dragging, scripted reality zombies resemble nothing so much as the Gammas, Deltas and Epsilons of Huxley’s fictional world of enforced consumerism. Add Soma, in the form of freely available booze, fags and recreational narcotics and you’re pretty much where he thought we’d end up. Could such dull denizens even be bothered to take an interested part in the democratic process? Why should they; they get all they want with little imagination or effort? Brexit may lose out to the sheer apathy of these humanoid sheep drifting from the mindless orgies of 18-30s holidays, to unplanned pregnancy, followed by a life of dreary all-inclusive package deals as wrist-banded temporary inmates of foreign penal colonies posing as holiday resorts.

The missing link...

If science and exploration survive the massive brain-shrinking effect of hyper socialism embodied in the aims of the European Union, will future archaeologists discover under-developed human crania of some missing link and name it Australopithecus gulliblisticus and ponder what cataclysmic event led to its demise? If you are wondering who would believe the TUC’s portents of doom, I think I’ve found them.

Free Speech on Trial

Hush. Tell nobody. I may be breaking the law by even thinking these thoughts, let alone writing them down. Paul Grange had what he thought was a funny idea for a sick joke, so he had it printed on a tee-shirt and now he may be facing a prison term. Why? Because he committed the now cardinal sin of offending ‘certain people’. As it happens I have literally zero interest in or concern for the ‘victims’ of H***s***ough, other than being uneasy about the way that the ‘V’ word now appears to confer special privileges. It’s not just the denizens of the city of eternal maudlin grief though; it is all too easy these days to self-identify with one of an increasing number of victim groups and demand different treatment.

The special snowflakes and their safe spaces on university campuses around the western world stamp and screech that they must not be offended. Similarly, the Caroline Criado-Perezes of the misandrous neo-feminazi sect insist that their views alone be considered and all others dismissed. Even Turkey’s President Erdogan demands his own personal right not to be the butt of jokes, no matter how easy a target he makes of himself. And you can forget about imagining this is only about genuine verbal violence, even relatively mild humour faces the same charges; it is now practically illegal to tell a joke if another party fails to find it funny. Soon this could be grounds for divorce; "Dey bombed ar chippie!" could be cited as spousal abuse.

But it gets worse: as the architects of their own butt-hurt choose what to find offensive they also get to to claim a special status above that of mere mortals; they imagine themselves as crusaders for justice, irreproachable and morally right. In the extreme they get to create new and lucrative roles as advisers to higher powers – real powers – as to what is appropriate behaviour for everybody else. Joining the ranks of economists, climate-fear peddlers and racism-definers is a new class of expert – the offence-adviser – whose weapon of choice is ‘hate speech’. It’s a booming business and could prove lucrative; students are already studying ways of identifying ever finer grades and shades of anguish.

Nobody denies that words can bite but, in Britain at least, we used to refuse to let words cause actual harm. Stiff upper lip, ignore and walk away... don’t let them see they’ve got to you. There is an inevitability in the constant desire to seek recognition and redemption; perversely it only keeps making it worse. The offence-seekers garner no respect for their very public outrage, but they can’t seem to see why and would prefer to see crime where there is little other than questionable taste. And their persistence has paid off.

Do you find this offensive? 

No longer are these moral freedom and justice warriors alone in their fight. Their high-pitched screeches have recruited powerful allies and now the EU is giving itself powers to decide at which point your free speech becomes hate speech. Instead of ignoring you or trying to appeal to your better nature they will simply criminalise your opinions and in policing opinions they will be repressing your ability to express what you think. Thought crime is real. Think twice before you post that witty repost... It is beyond a joke.